Little Falls transcript., 1887-05-27

vixen. l may be a vixen, but
if you were a gentleman But
the Myerses always were tyrants,
and I'm glad I've found you out in
tinle-so calm and so cool, and so
fixed in your own way. And I'll nev-
er, never, go and live in your old pris-
on-house," l cried. growing angrier
and angrier, Heaven only knows why.
And you may just whistle for your
dog, and 60 there yourself, and 60
alone. never want to see your face
again." And before he could grasp
me and prevent me, l had flashed in.
to the house, and had shut and bolt
ed the door.
He waited then; he waited, I should
think, an hour. And I sat inside,
burning with anger, and with an un-
conscious sense OF shame, very likely,
and a bitter Disappointment, and
q wild, unnamed fear. And at last he
rose slowly and looked at the win
dows, and turned away and called old
Roland, and went slowly down the lane.
And he never came back. | could
see him walking along, ever so slowly,
In the clear moonlight, with the dog s
nose in his hand, till the road turned
into the wood that mounted the hill
And when he had gone l just threw
myself on the floor, and all but dis
solved in my mad tears. And didn' t
know what the tears were for-wheth-
er for fear of losing Mark, or for fear
OF losing my home, or for fear of CIV
ing up my will; but it seemed to me
that the end OF the world had as good
as come.
We were both orphans, we both had
these great properties, and we had
both better have been beggars.
That was June, and the full moon.
| didn't sleep any that night hard
ly know why; a presentiment OF evil
kept me waking, although l was so
tired. l remember that moon now,
hanging in the purple sky, with her
wide wings, like a great boding ghost.
Every time l looked out, there she
was. By-and-by she began to frighten
me, and shut her out, but lay awake
all the same, my mind in a. wild whirl
The next evening. in the long after
glow OF the sunset, I tripped down
the lane to the wood, sure that l
should meet him, as I had always
done, on his way to me; but the shape
| had been used to see bounding down
the path I did not see again. I went
close to the shadow Of the wood, but
only old Roland came and put his
nose in my hand, and waited with me
while | waited, and went back with
me a little way when went back. It
did not occur to me to think that
where Roland was his master was not
far distant. And I went down the
lane no more.
After that, then, one day crept by,
and another, and life continued in
the old way, and all the business of
the great farm thrived in the hands
OF Bryan, the directing overseer, and
all seemed to be- mere idleness. The
moving machines were humming all
day in the meadows, and the huge
loads OF fragrant hay came laboring
into the barns, and thunder-clouds
made panics, and the lightning fell, as
it always did on the wet low grounds,
and burned one or two hay-stac'ls;
and then the g,lndelows went down
the river for the salt hay, and came
back, days afterward, with their dark,
square sails set atop of their square
loads OF thatch; and one by one all
the concerns OF ripening and harvest
ing had their season, and past, and
August was over. And Mark had
never once been up to the lane again;
and September had gone, and the
harvest-moon; and the hunters moon
had poured it's silver floods of light
out of a great lonely heaven; and still
Mark had never come.
| suppose Mrs. Wells, my next
neighbor, know all about it. And
Mrs. Sawyer, on the other side, OF
course knew all that Mrs. Wells did.
They We're very good to me, and they
and the girls were always running in
to see me, or sending for me to run in
and see them. I don't think 1 was
trying to carry things off with high
hand, and know I wasn't hanging
my head aud crying over what was
not to be helped; simply made up
my mind to the inevitable. / was
never going to have Mark beside me
any more, and must endure it, and
get through life as we'll as / could
l had this farm on my hands, and all
the people who had their living from
it, an,l must do my duty. And per-
haps III time fate would be kinder,
and give me fever or cough, and let
me lie down and die; and he would
come then and look on me, and re-
member how l had loved him, and be
sorry. And thinking how sorry he
would be was a Joy hugged to my
heart, and the only Joy had.
But l used to long so sometimes to
see Marks dear face again, to hear his
voice, just to lay my head on his
shoulder and cry my eyes out there.
Sometimes it used to seem to me that
I couldn't live another minute If I
didn't run down that lane and up
through the wood to the old house on
the rock and 6nd him, and beg him to
forgive me-forgive, oh, not just that
burst of temper, tut the whole rebel
lion OF my soul-and come back to me;
and sometimes I felt that Imust take
some sleeping potion that would keep
me benumbed till the pain had passed,
or else must throw myself into the
river always running by, brimmed and
shining and Indifferent.
And began to hate the river-the
river that had used to love so in the
sunshine, all blue and silver; that I
had loved so, dimpling lnits soft grays
in rainy weather; where had never
tired OF seeing the ice-boats dart along
when it lay white under it's wintry
mail-the river that now, in my grief
and trouble and weariness, flowed
past as calmly as if had never seen
it. How could it be so irresponsive,
rolling on bright and strong and
steady, giving me back no sympathy
now in my sorrowful mood, Civ
ing me even no vantage-ground?-for